“What about the wedding dress?”
“I’ll still wear a pretty dress, just less traditional and then after we’ll have a party with all our friends.”
“If that’s what you want I support it.” Was the best I could muster. I was easy, breezy, and less carping. It wasn’t my special day. I just needed to be there for Anika and Dante.
“Yeah, see you get it.” I slid the open bottle of Uncle Nearest to her and she took a sip.
“Did you tell your mother?”
“No, I was hoping you could?—”
“No, trust me it’s not going to soften the blow coming from me. It’ll just make things worse.”
“But if you’re there for moral support. I could tag you in when I need to collect my thoughts.”
“Like you had my back at the dress fitting?”
“That was different. The day was supposed to be about me, and you and mom found a way to make it about you.”
My head jerked back. “I’m sorry, but that woman …” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and adjusted my tone. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“No hard feelings, but you owe me. You also owe me for helping you and Aldi get back together.”
“I don’t think you had anything to do with that.”
“Bitch, I had to conspire and plot to get you two in the same spaces. If it wasn’t for me, you’d both still be in the talking stage and not the fucking stage.”
“Okay, I’ll help.”
“Great. I’m throwing a dinner party at Dante’s place this weekend. Feel free to bring your man.”
“You want to tell Mom you’re forgoing a traditional wedding, something she has been dreaming about since she was a little girl, at a dinner party?”
“It will be intimate, just us. If Dante and Aldridge are there, she can’t get as mad as she’d like to.”
“You’re talking like you’ve never met Jemini. Do you remember that time she cussed us out in front of that reverend she was dating?”
“Thatreverendwas a con man riding around in fancy cars and wearing those ugly ass designer suits. I doubt that was the first time he’d heard that type of language.”
“Maybe you’re right.” All I could remember is I was six and this man of God kept wanting me to sit on his lap. So, whenever he came around, I’d hide out in my room.
“And your newfound puritanical lifestyle is my gain.” Anika embraced the many bottles of discarded liquor. When the faint sounds of Michael Jackson’s “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough”played Anika squealed. “Bitch this is my song, turn it up.” I did as told and Anika broke out into a nasty bossa nova.
Dante’s housewas exactly what you’d expect from a twenty-nine-year-old basketball player, all glass situated on top of a hill with views of the city. This neighborhood was filled with celebrities, politicians and families whose wealth could be traced back several decades. Aldridge and I hadn’t visited this area during his home search because I knew he’d hate it. He’d call it pretentious and too much home for one person, and he’d complain about the drive.
Even so, when we pulled up, he said, “Gotdamn, now that’s a home.”
“You like it?”
“Real curb appeal.”
“Neighborhoods like this don’t have curbs, just miles and miles of tall shrubbery and private gates to keep vagrants out.”
“I know there is big money behind these gates. How much does something like this cost?” He pointed to Dante’s place with the curved driveway.
“Ten million minimum.”
“US currency?”
